Match review

The first USSR v Rest of World match was held in Belgrade from March 29th to April 5th 1970. That event was billed as "The Match of the Century" and assembled the world's top players for a feast of chess. A dispute between Fischer and Larsen as to who should play on board 1 was surprisingly resolved when the American agreed to take the lower board. The match went ahead and the Soviet Union won by 20½-19½. The two most notable results were Larsen's good showing of 2½(4) from three games against Spassky and one against reserve Stein, and Fischer's 3-1 domination of Petrosian, which proved that Fischer's long break from competitive chess hadn't affected his play. The BCM devoted 18 pages to the match and gave the scores of all 40 games.

The organisation of the 1984 match was more difficult from the start. It only became possible at all after Kortschnoj agreed to play the match he had won by default against Kasparov in Pasadena. Belgrade was the natural venue, but the Yugoslavs pulled out at a late stage, so a new venue and new sponsors had to be found at short notice. Rome seemed interested, but once again FIDE was to be disappointed when the sponsors failed to come to an agreement.

With just two weeks to go to the starting date, FIDE President Florencio Campomanes telephoned Ray Keene to see if the BCF could arrange a last-minute rescue for the match. Within an astonishingly short space of time, sponsors had been found and the match had been fixed for the London Docklands. The money came mainly from the London Docklands Development Corporation, the British Chess Federation and Mr H. M. Hasan, a wealthy Indonesian who donated a large sum towards the event in return for being named Captain of the Rest of the World team. Mr Hasan took a keen interest in the play throughout, but wisely delegated most of the Captain's duties to Lubos Kavalek. The Soviet Captain was Dr Krogius, grandmaster and psychologist.

The venue was the Northern & Shell Building in the enterprise Zone of the Isle of Dogs, just about in the middle of "the biggest construction site in Western Europe", as it was put at the opening ceremony. The double glazing effectively sealed out most of the noise, although one day play was postponed while the organisers bought off a mobile crane which was erecting steel pillars on the site next door.

The venue certainly wasn't the easiest place to get to in London. From south of the river a car was essential, but a bus running from Mile End tube station aided those arriving from the northern side. In fact it was probably just as well that the venue was remote, since there was very little room for spectators, who were often squeezed in uncomfortably. Despite these problems, the whole event ran fairly smoothly and was a magnificent organisational achievement at such short notice.

The average ratings were virtually identical, so a close contest was expected. A few omissions from the above lists need explanation. Petrosian was originally selected to play at board 8, but in view of his illness he was replaced by Razuvaev, who doesn't have a very high rating but is known to be capable of solid play. Portisch was to play on board 7 for the Rest of the World, but he considered it an insult that he had been placed so low and declined to take part. Given that his current rating is 2625, readers may form their own opinion.

I was number 13 (unlucky?) on the list and so took over Portisch's position. Hort couldn't play, apparently because he was obliged to play in the Czechoslovakian championship to preserve his West German residency.

Reserves were extensively used in this match. Unusually, reserves simply replaced the dropped player on the same board, so the poor reserve could end up playing any member of the opposing team!

/ Written by GM John Nunn, originally published in BCM /

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Going to the Dogs?

Readers may be interested in more of the background to the match, as seen by your editor.

Since the first match was played at Belgrade, it would have been logical for the 'replay' to have taken place in the Soviet Union on the principle of alternating venues, home and away. Presumably financial difficulties meant that it would not have been possible to have assembled a representative team to go to Moscow, quite apart from the problem of the fears of Korchnoi for his well-being inside the Soviet borders.

The last-minute approach to substitute sponsors in Britain meant that the story that the match would take place on the Isle of Dogs did not 'break' till Sunday, June 17th, and the early stories in the Fleet Street giants did not state the venue. Most chess fans in Britain would not have known details of the match until they saw Leonard Barden's Guardian column on June 23rd, the day after the Soviet team arrived in London.

We understand there were visa delays in Moscow, and the Soviet side were keen to know their opponents' board order before they left on the Friday morning.

Vigilant monitors of BBC programmes may have got to know that the match was on from a chat show on Monday June 18th. If you were prepared to listen through the langueurs of GLC politician K. Livingstone and gossip columnist Nigel Dempster, you finally heard Ray Keene give the background. Points of interest he brought out were that all strong chess players were individualists, always inclined to buck discipline. Korchnoi, he felt, would have been a rebel, no matter what society he grew up in.

Some fears were expressed about how quiet the playing conditions would be on a building site on the Isle of Dogs. Ray Keene confided that he knew there was a steam hammer on site, but it was well muffled!

The players were put into a city centre hotel in Tottenham Court Road, apart from John Nunn and Murray Chandler who opted to have easier access by staying at Murray's place, just south of the venue in London SE18. The coach bringing the players and officials took between thirty and fifty minutes to get to the site, depending on the state of London traffic, so that a prompt 3.00pm start was not always possible.

Unfortunately, it was not possible to have all the facilities within the same building. The 1970 match in Belgrade was played in a huge theatre with a massive stage and room for over a thousand to sit in the auditorium. The Northern & Shell Building was long and narrow with room for only about 80 to be seated, in two long rows. Much of the front row was taken up by FIDE officials, journalists and VIPs, so it was often 'standing room only' at the back of the seats. Progress from one end of the room to the other was accomplished by pushing through a mass of bodies.

The other components of the split site were a yellow marquee to house the bookstall, game demonstration (Bill Hartston and Andrew Whiteley) and refreshments, and the press centre with telephones and photocopy machines. The latter were perhaps 600 yards from the playing area, but a monitor kept the up-to-date positions in sight. Amongst the prominent personalities there in an administrative or journalistic capacity were Campomanes, Toran, Kinzel, Adorjan, Marović, Zaitsev, Roshal, Barden, Golombek, Wood, Reilly and others.

Of course, a five-hour playing session finishing after 8.00pm did not facilitate the appearance of good reports in the London dailies the next morning, so some of the PR benefits for the sponsors were, perhaps, diminished.

The chief arbiter was Bob Wade, the British Chess Federation was represented by Ray Keene, and Stewart Reuben headed much the same team of London-based organisers, board-boys and stewards that have become well-known from their endeavours at the Phillips & Drew tournaments and the Acorn Semi-final matches. Perhaps I should close with a reference to the merits of this team and the joke(?) that Stewart Reuben related with some relish — but out of earshot of his helpers; a world match arranged at a few days notice is not a bad effort; how do you cap that — cope with a world title match at three days notice, or an Olympiad at one days notice?